Drunk On You
by frankxlaurel
Summary: "Now, Laurel, I'm drunk, and I'm lonely, and I'm going to kiss you right now if you don't stop me." Rated T for language


Frank slammed his glass down. "Another, please," he called out to the bartender, who smiled at him sadly and began to pour him another scotch.

"Girl problems?" she asked, and was it Frank's imagination or was she purposely leaning over to give him a better view of her cleavage? He became oddly nervous, coughed awkwardly, and managed a nod.

"Did your girlfriend break up with you? Because I have a fool proof method for getting over a breakup, and it involves a lot less alcohol," she said, handing him his drink and letting her hand linger on his for a moment too long.

Frank barely even noticed her. He immediately brought the glass to his lips, appreciating the way the scotch burned his throat and numbed his brain. He finished the drink in record time, haphazardly wiping his mouth as he downed the last of it. "One more."

The bartender stared at him for a moment, seemed to decide something, and then began to fill up his glass. "You should go talk to her," she said. "I bet she's just as upset as you are right now."

"She's not into me," he growled, forcefully grabbing the glass from the bartender's hands. "She has a boyfriend, and she's not into me."

"And how do you know she's not into you?"

"She said it right to my freaking face, that's how."

"And why did she feel the need to tell that to you?"

"Because I was hitting on her. God, I'm stupid."

"And why were you hitting on her?"

"Because I thought things were" – Frank struggled to find the word – "mutual."

"Why did you think that?"

"What is this, an interrogation?"

"Just answer the question."

"Because she kissed me," he admitted with a pause, looking down at his drink. "She kissed me, and I can't stop thinking about it." Maybe just one more scotch would do the trick…

"She needs to know that," the bartender insisted. "No more scotch. Go get a cab and find her."

Frank nodded, putting his glass down with resolve. He was going to talk to Laurel. He would talk to her, and she would understand, she _had_ to understand…

* * *

><p>"Frank?" Laurel said. "I don't understand. What're you doing here? It's three in the morning."<p>

"Laurel," Frank began, his eyes going up and down Laurel's pajama-clad form. "You look nice."

He smelled like scotch. "Frank, we agreed to keep this professional. Is there any _work-related_ reason you're here right now?"

"Why are you always talking about work all the time?" Frank asked, and was he _pouting_? "Why don't we talk about something else?"

"Because we work together," Laurel refuted, crossing her arms. "Look, I have a boyfriend, and this is unprofessional. _I'm not into you, Frank_. Don't make me say it again. It's not fun for me to turn you down. I know rejection hurts, but I – "

"But you _what_? You don't feel the same way? Bullshit, Laurel. I'm calling bullshit. Maybe you didn't kiss me first, but you definitely kissed me. And that kiss meant something. It wasn't just – just _nothing_! I know it wasn't nothing – I know it. I felt it! You can't fake – "

"Yes, I can, Frank. I'm a lawyer; acting is apart of my job description."

"No one is that good of an actor, princess," Frank insisted, stepping closer to her, the air between them thick with heat. "Now, Laurel, I'm drunk, and I'm lonely, and I'm going to kiss you right now if you don't stop me."

And for one minute, time froze.

It ended up being Laurel who initiated this kiss, and there would be no way to argue she didn't. One hand grasped his tie and the other grabbed the back of his neck, and, God, she just couldn't help herself because she was _so_ into him, and it was ridiculous of her to even try to tell him otherwise. He could see right through her, and the thought excited and terrified her.

Frank responded with equal fervor, tangling one hand in her hair and wrapping his free arm around her waist, pulling her as close as their bodies would allow (there was a part of him that was afraid she was going to run away again, but he wasn't going to let that happen another time, never ever again). It was more than he ever could've expected – the kiss tasted of scotch, and it was all tongue and teeth and hands everywhere, all over, and, God, he couldn't breathe, didn't _want_ to have to break away from her for a second because who knew when this moment was going to end?

"Laurel?" a voice called. They pulled apart hurriedly, still flushed and breathing hard.

"Khan's here," Laurel whispered, hastily fixing her hair and smoothing out her pajamas. "I'm sorry."

"Laurel?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Frank suddenly felt nauseous. Whether it was from the large amount of alcohol he'd consumed or the way Laurel called Khan "babe," he wasn't sure.

"What're you doing up? Come back to bed. It's late, and there's school tomorrow."

"I'm coming!" she called. "Just give me a minute!"

There was silence for a moment. Laurel couldn't seem to look Frank in the eye. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so, so sorry, but I'm not a cheater. I can't do that to him."

Frank looked down, letting the blow wash over him. "I forgot that Brown girls don't cheat," he said dryly. "But I do have to point out that Brown girls don't usually make out with their bosses, either, princess."

"You know what, Frank? I don't need you telling me what I can and can't do. If I want to make out with my boss and cheat on my boyfriend, I will, but it sure as hell won't be because you've manipulated me into it."

"I – well – that – "

"Good night, Frank."

Laurel slammed the door then, leaving a perplexed Frank on the other side. And while there wasn't much he was certain of, in that moment, he was sure of two things:

1. Laurel Castillo was by far the best scotch he'd ever had.

2. He was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reading! Please review if you feel so inclined :)


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